


The Shovel Talk

by Slashseeker



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Gen, Protective Mercs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-02
Updated: 2014-11-02
Packaged: 2018-02-23 20:51:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2555204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Slashseeker/pseuds/Slashseeker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nine very expensive mercenaries pay a visit to a local Teufort resident.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Shovel Talk

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PreludeInZ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PreludeInZ/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Miss Pauling and the Personal Ad](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2554772) by [PreludeInZ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PreludeInZ/pseuds/PreludeInZ). 



> So, [I said a thing](http://slashseeker.tumblr.com/post/101269988478), and then [PreludeInZ](http://archiveofourown.org/users/PreludeInZ/pseuds/PreludeInZ) decided to encourage it, and so... A follow up to [Miss Pauling and the Personal Ad](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2554772)

Joe hadn't thought much about Edith since the end of their second date, when they had both agreed that perhaps they shouldn't go any further- they had a couple of shared interests, of course, but something about her struck him as a bit more complicated than he was up to handling.

He had been in Teufort for only a couple of weeks, his employer (a large construction company) having paid his relocation costs to manage various client accounts across the region. He had met Edith during one of his own lunch breaks the day after his arrival, the woman having bumped into him as he was leaving a local cafe with his purchased lunch, and sent his iced coffee spilling over them both. Joe, of course, had apologized profusely, and offered to buy her lunch to make up for the inconvenience (his own rented house was only a few minutes walk away, so changing wouldn't be a bother for him). She had accepted, and Joe had given her his card (Joe McIntire, Regional Account Manager) after they had purchased another iced coffee for him and a roast beef sandwich for her. Imagine his surprise when received a call a week later from her, though at the time it was business. A lunch meeting had been scheduled, and that had gone swimmingly. A week after that, he   
had called her instead, asking if she had any plans for lunch the next day, and while she did, the day after that she was free between two and three in the afternoon. That lunch had to be cut short thanks to a meeting she had forgotten, but they had agreed to try again the next week. That lunch had to be rescheduled as well, and ended up as dinner two weeks after that. That dinner actually went well, with no interruptions. However, after walking Edith to her car, they had come to the conclusion her life was a bit too hectic for a relationship, and that while he was more than happy to be a friend, he wasn't ready for much more either.

So, he had gone on his way, occasionally running into her around town as they both went about their jobs and lives in general, or meeting with her when business demanded. He had never really dug into what her position with TFI actually entailed, so he was far from prepared when he got a knock on his front door about three weeks after that dinner date.

He blinked at the group in front of him, mind spinning as he tried to think of why nine men (at least, he thinks the one in the gas mask was a man- his poor, work-tired brain didn't even try to figure out /why/ the person was wearing a gas mask) were standing in front of his house. "Uh... Hello... Can I help you?"

"Howdy. Joe McIntire, right?" The man who had spoken was shorter than Joe by a couple of inches, and was wearing a hardhat, welding goggles draped around his neck. The identies finally clicked, then, and Joe stiffened a bit in concern- these were the mercs from that base a few miles outside of town. He had seen them mentioned in the local paper, and curiosity had him reading a few of the older issues, gathering the basics of their identities from various articles about their interactions with the townsfolk.

"Yes?..."

"Nice night, tonight. Well. I ain't a man for beatin' round the bush, so let's get to the point of the matter. Ya'll been on a few dates with a lady from in town, name of Miss Pauling? That a fact?"

"Y-es?" He shifted a little, trying to get more of himself behind the door for protection. "Why do you ask?..."

"Why'd ya think ya-" The voice from the back of the group was cut off abruptly as the largest man (the Heavy, he thought) clamped a hand over the speaker's mouth (though it ended up covering most of his face, as well), the other gripping his shoulder.

"Little man let Engineer talk like agreed at base, da?" The man in his grasp writhed, but Heavy didn't let go until he had settled down and his muffled protests stopped for the moment.

"Well, let's just say we got some interest in any man who has interest in her." Something about the line struck Joe as reminiscent of the father of one of his girlfriends n high school, and he blinked a little as his mind immediately jumped to the following conclusion: They were giving him the 'If you hurt my daughter I will kill you' talk. The only difference was that he would, in all likelihood end up actually dead if he didn't respond correctly and rather soon.

"It was just two dates. We already agreed it wouldn't work. Please don't hurt me?" The last may have come out as a bit of an unmanly squeak, because he had finally realized they were all actively armed, as well, or at least most of them. The man in the suit and balaclava (wasn't it too hot for that? Also, the Spy) snorted at that, twirling his butterfly knife one last time before flipping it shut and slipping it away into the interior pocket of his suit jacket.

"That right?" The man who had originally spoken (the Engineer) had a pistol in a holster on one side, a rather large, angular wrench dangling from a tool holster on the other. The Engineer glanced over at the rest of the group, and Joe did the same. "What do ya think, fellas?"

The one in the hat with one side of the brim bent upwards (the Sniper) shrugged, sharing a look with the black man in an eye patch next to him (the Demoman), who tilted his head in thought. The Sniper had the butt of a rifle extending over his shoulder, the strap of it's holster crossing over his chest, and had one hand resting on the hilt of a what was either a very, very large knife or a rather short sword. Meanwhile, the Demoman also had his weapon holstered across his back. However, it   
was a proper sword rather than a firearm, long enough to see the bottom end of the scabbard extend about an extra foot out at a low angle from behind the merc.

"I think we should take him out back and beat the crap out of him anyway!" The rest of the group seemed to ignore the helmeted man's shout (the Soldier- Joe had actually seen him buying pallets of canned food in town before). The tiny part of Joe that wasn't falling to the group intimidation was thankful that they seemed to be rather used to the man saying things like that and ignoring him. He really didn't have the money to be hospitalized because he went on two dates with a woman.

The Heavy appeared unarmed, but he was large enough that he could probably kill Joe with just his fists, if he wanted. He remained quiet, much like the Demoman and the Sniper, and was joined in his silence by the man in the lab coat (the Medic) and the person in the gas mask (the Pyro). Both were unarmed like the Heavy, but something about the look on the Medic's face, and the Pyro's gas mask did the same work as the weapons on every other merc's person.

Finally, there was the man the Heavy was still restraining with a hand on his shoulder (and it had to be the Scout, then). He had a dented metal bat in his grip, pointed towards the ground for the moment, though the Scout seemed to be ready to bring it up at a moment's notice. Joe didn't want to find out how it had gotten dented any time soon, either.

"Yanno, I kinda agree wit' Sergeant Screams." The Scout shrugged a bit under the hand on his shoulder, shooting Joe a grin that had too many teeth to be anything but a promise of violence. The Heavy increased his grip a bit, and the Scout squirmed under the added pressure on his shoulder.

"You said it was just two dates, and agree it would not work, da?" Joe nodded rapidly at the question- it had been an amiable stop to something that had barely started. "Then it is done- no need to beat all blood out of tiny baby civilian." Well, that was a mental image Joe never wanted to have.

The Engineer looked over at the rest of the group one more time before sharing another look with the Spy. The taller man pulled a cigarette case from the same pocket he had stowed the knife, pulling a cigarette from it and lighting it with a zippo he had pulled from a different pocket. "It appears that the gentleman no longer has designs on Miss Pauling. I, personally, believe we are done here, non?" Clicking the lighter shut and taking a pull from the cigarette, he turned and walked away, towards a trio of vehicles that hadn't been there when Joe had gotten home- their vehicles, apparently.

"Well, alright then." Nodding at Joe, the Engineer let his arms uncross, one hand ending up on the head of the wrench at his side. "We'll be headin' out, then. Just keep in mind- we ain't too far off. Have a good night, now." The man turned, heading after the Spy, "C'mon, boys, let's head back ta base."

"But we did not beat him!" The Engineer just shook his head at the Soldier, letting out a sigh as he took the man's upper arm in hand, pulling him along.

"We ain't gonna, Solly, c'mon now."

The rest filed after him, minus the Scout. Instead, once released, he walked up to the door, the tip of his bat pressing against it as he leaned in, voice quiet. "If I ever hear Miss Pauling complain' 'bout ya, we'll be comin' back, chucklenuts." And then he turned and half jogged away, bat over his shoulder.

Joe closed and locked the door once they were all heading for the vehicles, shaking and sweaty. Maybe the company would pay for him to move again?...


End file.
